RPlog:Brig - Day Four
Scene 1: Korynn's Interrogation Interrogation Chambers -- I2SD Inquisitor One of the pentagonal corridors houses the ship's Interrogation Wing. Here, the corridor is lined with windowless doorways that lead into dark, poorly lit, dismal rooms. There are larger rooms for group humiliation and confinement purposes, and smaller rooms for more intimate moments of terror. Every room seems dark and technologically primitive. Behind their walls and floors, however, are housed every terrifying instrument of torture one could imagine. Chains and machines, electrical and chemical devices. Medical equipment complete with not only life saving items, but drugs any civilized system would have outlawed. Only the interrogator knows fully what diabolical devices lie behind the walls, ceiling, and floor. The decks are sheet metal, with little drainage holes - the type that can be cleaned of any undesired substance by water hoses, making the interrogation clean up easier. ---- For hours and a day, Lynae has been kept in solitude, away from Dareus, who had undergone his own initial interrogation. No longer strung up by chains, the woman has been left free to peruse the dank, hopeless solitude of her cell, where only twice a meager bit of bread and water (in a plastic cup) were brought in by Imperial Stormtroopers and dropped on the dirty floor for her to choose whether to consume or not. Unbound, the woman was free to explore the empty cell, except for every three hours, when an alarm would begin to sound any time she strayed away from her bed. The alarm, deafeningly loud and high enough in pitch to drive a human insane with its supersonic harmonics, was meant to 'train' her, like an animal, to remain at her bedside, until the hour was up. This type of treatment, for reasons left only to speculation, was not on any of the records. Kept secret and for COMPNOR eyes only, it is a method of unknown goal never once available to a Naval Officer's eyes. With the exception of the noisy hour, Lynae has taken to sitting in the middle of the cell on the floor, her legs crossed beneath her and arms loosely held at her sides. The condition, ie the cleanliness or lack thereof, of the cell does not appear to bother her in any way. Nor the confinement, solitude or the illumination. By and far she has the appearance of one who is calmly serene in the solitude. When the alarm would sound she would rise simply, return to the bunk where she would take up the same position and posture, waiting for the noise to cease before returning to her place on the floor. Whether she sleeps or no is difficult to discern. The food that is provided is consumed with the same lack of emotion or response, after all -- food is what we eat so that we don't die. At this precise moment, the alarm begins sounding again. Only this time, it doesn't stop when Lynae goes over to the bed. It continues roaring into the cell. Scientific studies have proven that, when supersonic (or even subsonic, to a much lesser effectiveness) noise is observed for long enough, it has a psychotic effect on the human brain. In many tests, after five minutes, the subject was cowering in a corner. After fifteen minutes, subjects would throw themselves mercilessly against a door or window, trying desperately to escape. In one study, a human subject actually tore his ears off with his bare hands, and began digging at his innards until blood loss killed him. Five minutes go past, and no matter what Lynae does, the alarm continues. Six minutes... seven... eight... As soon as the first vibrations of sound resonate through the room, Lynae rises easily to her feet and cross to the bed. Yet the sound does not stop. It resonates through the room, echoing off over and over around in a cacophony of senses that vibrate in her very bones, in the press of her teeth together. Covering her ears will not cause the sound to cease. She knows this and with effort refuses to give in to the impulse to cover her ears. As the minutes pass a fine sheen of perspiration covers her face, her close cut hair clinging damply to her temples and around her face. A fine tremor begins as her muscles twitch in response to the over whelming sound. With her back kept carefully away from the wall, on the vague premise that this would cause the sound to use her body and or her spine like a tuning fork and make the noise worse, she grits her teeth until her teeth ache with the force of the gesture. Observing with meticulous silence from the nearby ISB Control Center, Korynn Fleming begins to frown. "My, what resilience you show to this sort of treatment, Doctor," he muses under his breath. Turning, the ISB Director nods his head to one of the operatives at his side, standing over a control panel that operates all of the terror devices hiding in the walls of Lynae's cell. "Raise the frequency four-hundred kilohertz. Maintain current velocity." Inside the cell, the sound rises and rises in pitch until it has exceeded the human hearing range. Nevertheless, the effect on the human psyche persists, although now in quiet secrecy, as the minutes tick closer to the danger point. Ten... eleven... twelve... Lynae opens her eyes, which she had previously kept closed as it served no purpose to view the room for any reason. Simply knowing where she is, of course, has proven sufficient unto the day. Her eyes, open now, prove to be a brilliant shade of blue as her gaze flicks briefly around the room, a look of piercing resignation as she gives in to what she has judged to be the expected response. Knowing intuitively that this was the reaction sought, she covers her ears with her hands, then her forearms instead, she begins to rock back and forth on the bed, even though this will not make the sound stop, she does it anyway. "Interesting." After a few moments of silent deliberation, Korynn turns away from the observation monitor. "Silence the alarm in sixty seconds," he orders, then walks out of the ISB control center. Rounding a corner, he motions for two CompForce troopers, and then two Stormtroopers, to come with him. Down into the interrogation wing he goes. "You two stand guard outside," he says to the Stormtroopers. "You two?" He motions to the CompForce men. "Stun batons only." Turning, he waits until he counts the final seconds in his head. With meticulous timing, he presses the security panel that opens the door. Precisely when the alarm ceases its oscillating torment, the door to Lynae's cell swooshes into the ceiling, and Korynn walks in with the COMPNOR troopers at his side. Lynae does not so much as cease to hear the sound at long last, as cease to feel it resonating in her bones and teeth and in every fiber of her body. Her forearms remains pressed against the side of her head, her eyes closed again, jaw clenched, hunched in place until the sound finally, blessedly, stops. When it does she remains in position for another long minute, letting her mind return enough to take stock of her body, to probe her own thoughts for sense, and it is at this moment that her senses tell her that the door has opened. The breath of relatively fresher air is what alerts her more than anything else, and she speaks before straightening, before opening her eyes. "Welcome," she says simply, her arms dropping from position, her eyes blinking open and one hand scrubbing down her face as she studies Korynn and the troopers at his side. "Forgive me for my lack of hospitality. I seem to have misplaced my room service menu." A bitter sneer envelops Korynn's face, and he turns to motion toward the Stormtroopers outside, who close the door behind him. It latches, releases its hydraulic pressure with a hiss, and leaves Korynn to turn slowly again to face Lynae. The bitter sneer slowly collapses, turning into a legitimate frown, one that doesn't conceal hatred or anger, but rather, a sort of personal injury. "Your humor always appealed to me, Doctor," he notes quietly. Motioning to the CompForce troopers, they take a stance at either side of the door, stun batons held in their hands. Korynn walks toward Lynae's stiff, solid metal bed with slow steps. All the while, the look of disdain and betrayal remains solidly apparent in his face... most of all, his eyes. The same eyes he often uses to intimidate a prisoner or hide his true intentions. For now, they seem brutally and disgustingly honest, showing a sort of genuine heartache at what is transpiring in this very moment. "My sense of humor is obscure, at the best. Strange, at the norm, and bizarre at the worst, Director," Lynae replies simply, scrubbing at her face with one hand again before straightening away from the wall and keeping her expression as it has been. Which is to say, for someone who usually wears the expression of bland, neutral impartiality no matter the circumstance, she is allowing enough of her own emotions to sift to the surface. She meets Korynn's gaze with a look of weariness, a sense of loss that is too vast to express with words or gestures. His sense of betrayal is met and echoed in her gaze, yet she speaks not of it. The moment of silence between the two of them is enough to say what needs to be said. That he considers Lynae to be one of the few people in this galaxy he could have considered a true friend might be the last thing read from his eyes, before the demeanor of the room is shifted ever so slightly by Korynn's next words. The silent moment was enough for him to grapple with the fact that as of this very moment, the chance of their friendship growing is dead. Clasping his hands together behind his back, Korynn lets out a soft breath of air before he speaks. "Tell me how you came to know of Danik Kreldin's plot to steal the throne from Vadim." His words are icy and bland, with the mere shadow of authority. "I received a request to journey to the estate of the late Admiral," Lynae replies simply, a brief look in her own eyes recognizing and returning the acknowledgement that their friendship, professional and otherwise, is over. "It was at this meeting that I learned that the Grand Admiral is still alive," and there's just enough of a touch of shock and vague wonder at how this could be in her voice to convey the sentiment without speaking of that either. "From this meeting I learned of the Grand Admirals intentions in regards to Vadim." "What were Kreldin's intentions, exactly?" asks Korynn, no longer showing any emotion from his face or his eyes, aside from pure professionalism. The concept of Kreldin having somehow faked his death seems not to affect the ex-interrogator in the least. "To displace Vadim and install himself as god, king, Emperor, war leader and favorite flavor of the month," Lynae replies without pause. She arches one eyebrow, waiting for the next question. A harshness flashes through Fleming's eyes, and he stops in his pacing to turn and face the woman. "Details, Lynae. You know the standard procedure... I give you a chance to answer questions politely. The next phases are much more invasive. Do not test my patience. Give me details on how he planned to displace Vadim." For some reason Korynn's response makes Lynae smile, much as Jal'Dana's response did, but she does speak at this point, and it's in the same bare bones dictation style she'd use when summing up a case history. "From what he said, he believed that his position as the over all commander of the fleet, and his ties to COMPNOR and what not would put him in a position of being viewed favorably the military, the government, by all forces who were stunned by the sudden appearance of this Vadim from the shadows who usurped the throne so handily." She pauses, one eyebrow arching faintly, "His words, mind you, not mine. He suggested a handful of variations on how this might be accomplished, much to our general curiosity and some degree of astonishment. After all, one does not walk into the throne room and kindly ask the Emperor to stand down and retire to his summer home on Tatooine. Some mention was made of enlisting the aid of the Jedi, and he also make some note of how he thought that he had some claim to abilities of the Force. I can neither confirm nor deny these claims, mind you. I have no sense of this stuff myself, and only accept its existence through the avenue of no other choice. So, to sum up. He planned to dispose Vadim through one of various plans involving a small force of loyalists and take the throne himself under the belief that he would be accepted, fate accomplished, upon arrival." Korynn squints his eyes just slightly at Lynae's smile, but he disregards it for the moment, instead favoring his ears to listen. "Noted," he interjects, when Lynae defends that she was merely quoting Danik, not suggesting her own opinions of the Emperor. "What are your opinions on these plans Danik proposed?" he asks, now adopting a more genuine curiousity rather than a heated though subdued aggression. "I am, have been, will remain to be, a doctor a scientist and a surgeon. My advancement through the ranks to commodore of this fleet is nothing short of wildly unusual. To that end, I preface my reply with the fact that I do not view tactics and plans the same way that, for instance, Line Captain Rall would. His plan was foolhardy at best, insane at worst, and laughable to some extent. But it was the Grand Admiral speaking," Lynae emphasizes gently. "The is the man that I have served, faithfully, since joining this fleet. I have spent countless days patching up his broken bones and tissue, stitching him back together, ranting at him to stay in a bacta tank long enough to heal. The man that I hauled back from the abyss after his time with Joanna. This is Grand Admiral Kreldin," she repeats. "When I thought, when We thought, that he had died in combat, I tasked my people to combing the debris field for enough to bury with honor!" Her voice has taken on some heat, some level of frustration and betrayal that makes her take a deep breath, her composure settling back around her like a cloak. "You asked how I viewed the plans that Danik proposed. Many views. It is better to serve the Emperor that you know, that you trust, that you know values you and your people and your services, the lives under his command and those that have spent their blood to protect and serve this empire than to serve a man who casts despite upon the very memory of the Emperor that I have revered all of my life, all of my service. A known evil is better than a unknown evil, Korynn, such was my thinking. If this had been a mere matter of a handful of officers gathering to vent, to speak of things that should not - could not - be spoken, that would have been one thing. We left that meeting with the sense that it was a discussion, not something upon which there was a clear time table, a clear plan. It was talk. Treasonous talk, and since I am charged with treason I will not shy from using the word. Speaking of treason, even thinking of treason, is not allowed. Did I believe that the Admiral was planning to charge out, on the morrow, and lead a vanguard of loyalists to the throne room and demand a duel royale?" She makes a sound that is something like a snort of amusement, "Laughable." Though Korynn maintains his composure, his eyes glaze over with wrath as more words pour and pour from Lynae's lips. There's a moment where he must decide whether to let his fury unleash, but should it happen, he would undoubtedly throttle the woman until her esophagus was disgorging her stomach acids throughout her neck and torso. That simply wouldn't get him anywhere, and he decidedly turns away and stares at the wall for a silent moment to maintain his composure and bite down his rage until submission. "Let me tell you... Doctor... what I think." Korynn uses her medical title as if it were the one piece of honor she had left to her. "Every great and honorable effort made by Kreldin is now past tense. We are trained as servants of the Empire and, ultimately, servants of the Emperor. We are not, and never will be, trained to be servants of a Grand Admiral." He turns back toward Lynae, spite in his eyes. "Let me tell you what would have happened had we not been fortunate enough to discover Kreldin's pathetic plot before he managed to unravel it into reality." A hand comes out from behind him and points toward the woman. "He would have thrust this Empire into yet another civil war. We would have pitted our best, wisest, and most talented against each other. The rebels would have taken advantage of it. Bit by bit, they would have used our distractions and weakness to once again steal territory from the safety of the Empire. Countless millions of lives would have been lost, and for what? The selfish, disgusting wishes of an old fool!" His voice rises to a near climax, then falls as he takes another step toward Lynae, his glowering eyes making as if to bore into her soul and strike a note of fear in her gullet. "Palpatine, Valak, Osbourne, and every great Emperor who has come and gone has just that... they've gone. They were wonderful leaders who ultimately failed. Do you think for a moment that Kreldin could have been wiser or more tactful than Palpatine? Yet here, instead of bringing your concerns over Vadim to the table in an appropriate manner, you risk thrusting the entire galaxy into yet another decade of bloodshed." He draws in a deep, hissing breath through his nose, and watches her like a hawk, seeking her response like prey. "Why waste my time?" Lynae counters in a voice that is very calm compared to Korynn's, one eyebrow arching upwards again as he speaks. "Since when has speaking of the actions or the plans, or the purpose, or speaking at all about the will or the whim of the current emperor ever bought anyone anything other than a swift re-education, charges of treason, or a sort trip out of the nearest airlock. We do not question our orders, we OBEY THEM!" she spits out with some degree of vehemence before she lifts one hand to rub briefly against the right side of her jaw. "To what table, in what appropriate manner?" she asks in return, shaking her head then. "No. If I had thought that this would honestly turn into something where we would take up arms, I would have killed him myself." She rubs at the side of her jaw again, "I have signed enough death certificates in my time as the CM of the former fleet to wish open war again. We spoke, we discussed, we talked, we vented. Not a single time did we take up our own personal arms and march to the call of the Admirals banner with a clear strategy to over throw the Emperor. Aye, we serve the Emperor, who ever it happens to be this season. Yes, I find it to have been insulting, a slap in the face to hear the Emperors words speaking of Palpatine in such a manner. For I am old, Korynn, and I find it distasteful to have my years of service cast in such a light. But my sensibilities are of no account, not now, nor ever will be. I would have killed him myself before we took up arms against our own people, for I am sick of blood shed, of the lists of the names of the letters and the empty cabins. Of fighters scooped back into the hangar in pieces. Of body parts strewn on the floor in pools of blood so thick that my feet slip in them. Of the cries of the sounds of the faces of the soldiers that I couldn't save. Of the necessary decisions of triage which say that THIS man may live if I tend to him now, but if I tend to this one with all of my time and resources that five others will die. I am weary of serving the Empire in which the life of the common soldier is nothing more than cannon fodder, expendable, just another marker on the table!" She runs her hand through her hair, her eyes blazing a brilliant blue once again as she speaks. "I would have set my knife against his throat myself before seeing open war again. Is that the answer you were looking for?" His jaw thrusting forward in a most perplexed mixture of approval and disgust, Korynn takes another three steps toward Lynae, putting himself dangerously close to her. "Palpatine's very support of the Tarkin Doctrine is support of the bloodshed you talk about," he replies, his voice quieter but shaking ever so slightly with clipped down recession. "You contradict yourself with every breath. Do you know the intimate plans of Emperor Vadim? Do you understand why he said what he said? Do you presume that he is such a fool as to not have a plan or reason for every word spoken?" He takes a step back, his lower lip pressed up against the other in a gut-wrenching scowl. "Fortunately for you, Caiton, you won't be held to the same degree of justice as Kreldin. He is no longer a Grand Admiral, he is now nothing more than a fool. Do everything in your power to bottle his plot and the Emperor might spare you a type of torment I could scarely imagine." "I know nothing, Director Fleming," Lynae says quietly, a look of self directed mockery registering in her eyes for a brief moment. "I know nothing, and am certain that I would not have known the plans or the outline until such time as my forces were needed for a specific task. I am not, now nor then, necessary to the task at hand until this fleet was needed for some plan. I presume nothing, not then nor now. I know only what my sources, my intel, my knowledge and studies tell me, and my own observation. For, after all, it is our personal observation that colors out existence through a perspective based filter," she remarks in abstraction before she blinks once, then again, focusing on Fleming's face. "We came back, directly, for that express reason. You have not asked me why I did what I did, Korynn. You have not asked why I removed Dareus and the Caspian Diplomat from custody. " Korynn slowly folds his arms over each other, resting against his chest. His silence is preluded by a raising of his eyebrows, as if to suggest he's willing to listen. "The minute that Ms Quinn was arrested, the treaty was cast into dispute, it's very premise and agreements violated. Our word is our bond, or we are no better than the rebels," Lynae says with some degree of heat. "The treaty is vital, I believe, to establishing some degree of normalcy with the CDU and, conversely, in casting the New Republic into a light that will show their terrorist movement to be exact that: a rebel insurgency with no honor, no real goals, no means of carrying their objectives to fruition and a feasible end. We de-legitimize the actions of the NR by giving them the length of rope to hang themselves with. That treaty was VITAL," she says firmly, "and I swore that I would see it upheld. By word or deed, I swore that it would not be broken. And here we are, everything that has been done to enforce this peace between us and them is cast aside in mere hours. Such waste, such utter waste," she says with a slow shake of her head. "I did not remove them from custody out of fear, I did what I did so that there would be - could be - time for cooler heads to prevail on this matter." Listening quietly, Korynn turns aside and walks off toward another end of the cell. "Nevertheless, Caiton, you comitted a crime. Neither Dareus nor Quinn were arrested without due cause or suspect. That said... it was not the Empire who broke the treaty. It was Quinn and Dareus." He looks back toward Lynae, frowning. "Perspective, Caiton. You preach it... it applies to both ends." He turns his attention to the CompForce troopers standing guard at the door. "Gentlemen?" They already had their orders. The two troopers stride forward, bringing their stun batons into a more useful grasp, as they walk toward Lynae with cold expressions. Lynae makes no gestures nor gestures of defiance or any move to evade as she sees the troopers moving forward with their stun batons held at the ready, "Standard procedure, of course," she says simply without any mark of fear in her gaze. After all, it's not as though there's some escape hatch built into this one room of many. She bears enough scars from her years of service, what are a few more at this point? The strikes come, one after the other, in a ruthless dance of rudimentary precision, until the stun weapons have forced Lynae into a nearly unconscious submission. "That's enough," says Korynn from the doorway, watching without remorse as they drag Lynae onto her uncomfortable bed. Korynn turns and makes a gesture toward the door, triggering the Stormtroopers outside to open it and allow him to depart with the CompForce troopers in tow. A few moments later, Korynn strides into the ISB control center, his icy gaze commanding silence from the room. "Activate the alarm again." His instructions to the ISB agent operating Lynae's cell are carried out, and the oscillating supersonic frequencies are piped into Lynae's cell again. Only this time, they don't stop at fourteen minutes. They carry through to an entire twenty minute cycle. The process repeats every three hours for the next twelve, when another series of Stormtroopers will come in and escort Lynae to a larger cell, the one holding Dareus. There they are left, in whatever shape either of them end up in, until their next visit... Scene 2: Recovering :Hours pass... ---- The long twelve hours have finally passed, most of which Lynae has spent slipping in and out of consciousness, the sound resonating in her very bones rousing her enough to be in agony during the twenty minute cycles. Beaten to the point where everything hurts, the supersonic torture only adds one layer after another until she can no longer tell when one session ends and another begins. She's nearly senseless when hands lift her and drag her out of her cell and throw her onto the floor of another room, she only realizes she's stopped moving when the side of her face hits the floor. Half asleep in his own right; he's still in his own trance like state before he realizes Lynae's been dropped in the room. Quickly, even though his hand is broken, and his shoulder is still in extreme pain; Antoine runs over, and lifts her up, moving her over to the slab that was his bed, laying her down, and checking her pulse. Nowhere near skilled as her, but then again, he was only trained in emergency field situation, "Lyn...." His right hand throbs and can barely feel a pulse; but he looks as though he's not sure if it's from her questioning, or the nerve damage in his hand. Lynae can't help but make sounds of pain as she's moved, again, and pries her eyes open long enough to recognize Dareus hovering above her before she nods her head to try to let him know that she's okay. "Standard technique," she murmurs, actually quoting the source, paragraph, chapter and references in a dry tone of voice before she coughs, which makes her double up in pain. She rolls to her side, realizes she's on the slab that passes for a bed, holding her head in between her hands, her eyes a little wild, "I feel like I just got hit by a TIE, repeatedly, at full speed," she mutters. Dareus nods, "You must have gotten stunned." He reaches for the water that he hasn't touched yet; but realizes he can't grip the glass with his right hand; so he takes it with his left, handing it to Lynae, "You're gonna feel like shit for a few more hours, have somethin to drink for now." Lynae sits on the edge of the shelf and accepts the water glass with one hand while holding onto the side of her head with the other, "Stun batons, yes. Wielded by these huge guys who should be playing shock ball, not working for COMPForce," she mumbles. She sips at the water, despite how bad it is, and sets the cup down to stare at Dareus through bleary, blurry, eyes. "I feel like death that was taken outside, beaten, exposed to a vacuum, brought back in, beaten again like a bad rug, then dragged around and made to listen to Trandoshan opera," she says with a great deal of vehemence. She squints at Dareus again, "How did I get from there to here?" Dareus half smiles, "They dragged you in." He cups his chin with his right hand slightly, although it doesn't do a good job of holding on to his face, "You should be feeling better soon enough; unfortunately it'll probably be just in time for round two." He sits down still rather stuff from the hanging, but smirks, "At least we're in a better room now...can't complain about that." Lynae reaches for the cup of water again, sniffs at it suspiciously, then apparently decides that after all this the water isn't likely to be the thing that kills her. She only drinks half of it, though, before scrubbing at her eyes with her hand and studying Dareus, and then narrows her eyes to examine the hand that is clearly swollen, "What did you do to your hand?" she inquires, staggering to her feet and crossing the distance to press one hand against the wall and uses that to balance herself as she slides down to a sitting position on the floor. "Never mind that, get the hell back on the bed and rest. You're in worse shape than me." He looks back to the blood smear on the wall, before looking back to Lynae, "I got a little emotional during my last questioning..." Antoine sighs, and sits down on the floor with his back against the wall, "It's been harder keeping clear thoughts, and being able to control myself without my medication." Lynae rests her head back against the wall behind her, closing her eyes briefly. "Antoine, there are a couple of things I'd like to avoid in my life. One of which is using the phrase, "I woke up on the bed in your fiancee's cell" followed by explaining why I didn't see about setting your hand before it got worse." She inserts the first comment for comedic relief only and opens her eyes again after finishing, "Now let me see it, without fighting me over it, and we'll both conserve our strength." Dareus chuckles, and covers up his hand, "It's fine, a few liquid knuckles, but no big deal. Besides..." He shakes his head, "You think I wanna be the one saying I carried you to bed? That's gonna be one funny out of context story." He pulls the top part of his utilities down to check his nasty-colored shoulder, "If you want to look at something, look at this, I"m starting to lose some feeling along the back of the shoulderblade, and it's making things a little hard to grab with my...." He looks at his hand, and laughs again, "Nevermind, I think I found the bigger problem gripping things." Making a quiet sound of laughter, Lynae winces as her own voice makes her head hurt even worse. "I'd say 'ow' but since that doesn't sufficiently cover it, I think I'll skip it and move on to taking a look at it." She staggers back to her feet and moves over to sit on the edge of the shelf, "If you didn't get your arm quite back into socket I'm going to have to set it properly and then we'll both hope that they leave us alone long enough for it to begin to set. But you're going to have some major issues once we're all done in here. I'm not kidding about doing a complete joint replacement. Bionic shoulder man, will be your new call sign." Dareus laughs, and almost can't stop, before ending in a deep, but happy sounding sigh, "Either that or just plain VICTIM" He looks at his hand, "There were a few small things I pulled outta my wounds, probably minor bone fragments, but it doesn't hurt that much anymore..." He does his best to lift his shoulder up horizontally level; but it's with great difficulty, and he can't quite make it up completely to that 180 degree angle; even then, he's sharply inhaling while he winces. Lynae frowns at Dareus as he tests his range of motion, "Still, come over here and let me look at it," she asks. Dareus half stands up, and half slides over, bringing his arm slightly up, or at least as high as he can, "Don't gimme that look. This wasn't some suicidal errand you know...not my fault!" He winces a bit more, "First time for everything." Lynae rests her hands on Dareus's shoulders, then closes her eyes, examining the swollen shoulder and joint with her fingertips, probing gently around the entire area before she speaks. "It's not quite set," she says, "Though I'm sure you already know that. So," without warning or anything her tone to alert Dareus that she's going to remedy that, Lynae moves swiftly and snaps his arm back into joint entirely with that disgusting audible pop of sound. Dareus winces and squirms slightly while her fingers check the status of the ball joint in his shoulder, gritting his teeth as well. When she jerks his arm back into place, he was looking at her, when instantly his eyes go wide, and his head faces the ceiling with another loud and familiar scream, followed by a "SONOFA........." Both of his fists clench as hard as their muscles allow anymore, and he keeps his eyes closed tightly until the pain subsides. Lynae pats Dareus's good shoulder, "If I'd warned you, you would've tensed up," she explains, "and it would've been worse and more difficult to accomplish." She pats his shoulder again, "Now, lets see the hand," she says, scooting to the side and taking the hand that he broke between hers and studying it the same way she studied his shoulder, "Hmmm, you know .." she pauses, "I think I'll skip that part of my usual bit of Fascinating Facts and confirm that you've smashed your knuckles pretty darned good. I could do some work on this if we had proper equipment." Dareus nods, "I did everything I could for it; there's nothing we can do until we know if we're ever getting outta here or not." He leans his head against the wall, "Even that, is pretty damed iffy at this point anymore." Taking a few seconds, "Youd have some more water, it'll help your head faster than without." "Yabbit," Lynae begins, again with the comedic relief, "if I drink all the water, in an hour your going to be thirsty and there will be none for you. Nothing sets off a thirst craze like not having anything to drink. I'll tough it out only if you drink some as well," she counter offers. "And, this is true, if we don't survive this, then setting your shoulder and fixing your hand will only make your corpse look good." Dareus shakes his head, "That's my leftovers from yesterday; I haven't been able to eat or drink yet; so I'm not in a big hurry about it. You can feel free to go ahead." He runs his hand through his scruffy hair, "Hey, might as well, I wanna make sure I still look this damned good when I'm dead. Wasn't easy keepin this all in shape." He laughs and winks at Lynae, at least having some of his own humor in the situation. Lynae squints her eyes at Dareus in reply, getting into the spirit of the conversation, "For a scruffy looking nerf herder who needs a shave, you're not all that bad, I suppose," she remarks. "Actually, we're enough alike in coloring that we could almost be siblings," she pauses then grins briefly, "you're just the short one," she adds, noting that she's about one inch taller than he is. Dareus laughs, "Hey, I always make up for my height in other ways...even if I'm the size of an Ewok....at least I'm not as hairy." He stands up now, and leans backwards, stretching his muscles, and a few vertibrae pop gently again, and he sounds relieved, "Guess if we'd be related, I got the short end of the stick, you got the brains...the height..." A small yawn escapes from his mouth; not like i have any real family left anyway though...that would be the breaks, I guess." Lynae allows a breath of laughter at Dareus's comment, "I have no immediate family other than my father, and he's in his late 80's," she offers in reply. "I was a.. surprise for him and my mother, they didn't plan to have children. He's a pilot, retired, and she is - was - a research scientist. Both on Carida. He's retired now," she muses aloud, "hating every minute of it." Dareus looks just quiet right now, "Mom's on Corellia, in a home, same thing as me, put her in there a while ago....she has no idea what ever goes on...far too advanced." He sighs for a second, "Everyone else is either dead, or who knows where." He shrugs it off, "Oh well, death is just another part of life." "My mother was killed in a lab accident three years ago," Lynae says simply. "No one in the lab made it out, and they nearly lost containment and the entire floor was in lock down." She shakes her head slowly from side to side, "Death is the only constant companion in life, Antoine. It is the only part of life we can count on." He turns back with a half smile, "Taxes is the other thing to count on." He winks at her and Dareus goes back to sitting down on the floor, leaning against the cold durasteel wall, and closes his eyes, "How much longer do you figure?" Dareus doesn't really wanna think about what the outcome could be, but still wants to know her take on the situation...."Hey, you feeling any better yet?" Lynae sighs and reaches for the cup of water, finishing it then holding it aloft in a 'see, it's empty' gesture before she scoots all the way back on the bench until her back is pressed against the wall then rests her arms on her bent knees. "Until they determine what they're going to do with us. They'll want to confirm the intel we've brought in. And Fleming said something about bottling this up. Now, I don't know if that means that they want us to contain it somehow, or use us as key plants to fix this, I don't know. But how much longer?" she shakes her head slowly from side to side, "we are here at the discretion of the Bureau." Dareus sighs, and nods,"true enough...we could be in here until I'm old and wrinkled....or at least more than I'm feeling. I think I've downgraded to the body of a 70 year old." He runs his hand across his forehead, "I have a better idea, they arm the crap outta us; send us outta here on a shuttle, and we gift wrap Kreldin's head for the Emperor. Badaboom badabing. Done." A slight laugh comes out of his mouth, "Although that has to be the most half assed idea I've come up with in here...." Lynae gets a fierce look on her face, "You take his head," she says simply, "I'm going to skin him alive down to his fingertips and toes. And then I'm going to make wallets and lamp shades as party gifts." Her eyes have taken on that cold gleam that usually indicates that she's thinking thoughts that aren't for polite company. "We'll bring his head back, on a platter, and present it to the Emperor with our compliments. I'll pass around the wallets as parting gifts." Dareus scoffs for a few seconds, "I'm not putting my bank card in anything made out of that...." He leans in against the wall, his head looking up at the ceiling, "Sonofabitch abandoned us...I swear to all that I hold in my life; if they don't find him, I'll break my ass outta here, and kill him myself." He laughs, "HEY! I could get his fancy ass Corellian Rapier then!" "Okay, good point. Personally, I want to fillet him into wafer thin slices," Lynae says in a low voice, "I'm positive that my vibro scalpel could accomplish that," she says with confidence. "He not only abandoned us, Antoine. But we went, because it was Him. Because it was Admiral Danik Kreldin, the man we've served with honor all this time. If I'd know it was going to come to this I'd have put my blade across the side of his neck and delivered his head on a platter weeks ago." Dareus shrugs, "I'm not that nice, I'll shatter his larynx to he slowly suffocates to death, and feels the life slide from his body." He looks at his broken hand; and it's easy to see the anger, but pleasure rising in his body at the thought, "Even with this hand...one quick hit along the larynx....17 PSI would be enough" "You know," Lynae says in a softly speculative voice, "We could almost kill him, then revive him in a bacta tank, heal him up, then do it again. We could take turns," she says brightly. "Entirely too much fun for me to think about." Antoine looks back at her, and smiles, "As fun as this will make my dreams tonight, I"m more concerned about having by spleen removed with some kitchen utensil first thing in the morning...there still comes a time to be realistic...even when you don't want to be." "There's always that option, yes," Lynae agrees with a serious nod. "Who knows. I can't predict what will happen next. Between the information gathering and the object lesson stuff, there's a lot of this that can't be marked down on a standard list of things that Might Happen. All I can tell you is to not underestimate the Director. Stick to the truth, don't speculate, and don't make up answers." Dareus shrugs, "true enough, but what the hell do you think I've been doing since I've been here. I came back to clear the air, not save my own ass. I coulda simply disappeared; and I sure as hell couldn't let you come back on your own." He runs his left hand overtop the right, not squeezing, but more feeling how liquified the bones tend to feel, some kind of perverse pleasure, "Guess I'll never play a keyboard again." "Let?" Lynae inquires mildly, one eyebrow arching upwards. "Your Lady was ready to drug you and truss you up like a game hen," she says quietly. "I was prepared to help her, and sorely tempted to, as well. If logic hadn't indicated that your absence would still have forced the hand for the possible and or probable insanities, I'd have made sure that she had all the items she needed to do exactly that. No one lets me do anything, Antoine. Be glad you have someone who cares enough about you that they're willing to go to the ends of the universe to save your hide." Dareus shakes his head, "You done? You know damned well you weren't coming back without me, and if you tried...well, I did have my blaster on stun" He winks at her, "That's right...where you go, I go." Laughing slightly, he feels compelled to add, "Besides, I'm a better pilot...I don't ram into other ships." "Riiiight," Lynae says in reply with a good dose of asperity in her comment. "Like you'd have shot me?" she challenges. "As to being a better pilot, I won't argue with you on that one. And I don't randomly drive the ship into others, I'll have you know. It was a slight miscalculation." Dareus laughs hard, although his stomach muscles don't enjoy it in the least, so he ends up stopping rather quickly, "Slight with a Star Destroyer...is never slight...it's like friendly fire...it just isn't." He takes the time to stretch out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, just as impenetrable as the walls and door that surround them. "Better times...." Lynae's ears actually turn red, "It was a slight miscalculation on the stopping time ratio vs the speed of the Crusader," she mutters. "My original intent was merely to slow the Crusader down enough for the fighter squadrons to come back around for another pass and to give some of the wounded time to evacuate. Granted, the resulting miscalculation turned into a rather large explosion. I don't believe Admiral Rodriga feels the same way, however. He seemed rather vehemently put out about it when we exchanged words on the Reprisal." She casts a look at Dareus, "Laugh it up, chuckles, next time you get hit by friendly fire I'll let you tend to it yourself." Dareus keeps his eyes up on the ceiling, "I doubt they'll be a next time; but still, like hell you'd let me bleed to death....that's just not you." He cranes his neck with a grin at her, "Nice try though..." Quickly, the eyes go back up to the ceiling, yawning once again, "Who knows though, I can't keep my thoughs really straight anymore...too long since my last injection...it's going to be far worse by the end of the week, I can guarantee that much." "Yes it will," Lynae agrees, "no, I wouldn't let you bleed to death. Tempted though I may be. But if this had been on your chart, you'd have never been cleared to pilot," she suggests quietly. Not that she's under the illusion that this or any conversation is private. "The more you struggle to keep your thoughts focused the harder it will be by the end of this." He shrugs slightly, "It takes away me....no other choice...half my day is spent meditating and concentrating on the pain, that helps somewhat...as twisted as that may be."I can't sit here much longer and keep telling them the same truth...what do they want, the same story in 5 different ways, maybe some first person, a little third person..." "Yeah, there will come a point where I'm just going to lose my temper, I can see it now," Lynae agrees with a sigh of resignation. "After repeating all that I know for the third or fourth of fifth time I'm going to say something stupid like 'review the transcripts from the last time you asked that question'," she mocks her own voice for a moment. Scrubbing at her face again with both hands before leaning her head back against the wall. "You know, they're monitoring everything we say. We could just stand up, face the nearest camera, and start reciting everything we know." Dareus shakes his head, and closes his eyes, beathing slowly, "Nope...did that yesterday to Lieutenant Becton...I should just recorded in datacard and made 80 copies, handing each one out every day." He places his hands on his chest, which is slowly rising and falling, "Somehow, they wouldn't find the humor in that though...and I'd just end up with a forcepike up my ass." Lynae laughs quietly, "Excellent idea, lets keep that in reserve for next time. Just down load every scrap if intel you have to a data file, imp it about eighty times, pass them out like calling cards to everyone that enters the room, excellent idea," she repeats with a slow shake of her head. "We can tell them where he was last, what he looks like, what names he's using, the access codes to get past the security at the estate. But no one seems interested in that, either. " Dareus continues to silently lay on the floor, before he adds, "Just give me a goddamn EKX and it'll be all over within a day....that's all I need, hell, gimme a vacsuit and launch me out an airlock en route to Corellia for all I care...." His ears perk up for a second, and he turns to Lynae, eyes opening, before he sits up too quickly, compared to what his body can handle, and he winces again, "You have the access codes to the Estate?" "Of course," Lynae replies with a frown, "I had to get into the estate to interrogate the prisoner that he's holding. I don't know if he's still holding him, and if he is, what he intends to do at this point. I have the codes for the gate and the access codes for the rest of his estate. After all, I'm the old mans personal physician." "Why the hell didn't you tell me before hand? I could have had him killed before we came back!" He hits his head against the wall, not hard, but enough to make the point, "This is not good for sharing information with other friends, you know." Dareus laughs slightly at the stupidity of the whole scenario, and how easy it could have been, "I even had enough cash for mercenaries!" "You didn't ask," Lynae counters with a frown, her expression going blandly neutral for a moment. "I didn't believe that there was a way for us to get into his estate and do anything of use, so giving you that information wasn't going to help. If I'd thought we could do anything viable with the information I'd have brought it to your attention sooner." Dareus shrugs, "You're probably right, he's probably out of the estate, and running around Corellia in the slums with that ridiculous getup he has...." He sighs, and just leaves it at that, another opportunity lost. With some extra care to his muscles this time, he lays back down on the floor of the cell, and goes back up to the ceiling; "At least they know what he looks like, more than likely, unless he changed it....but Danik's a man of habit...even if it's because of his ego." "He's a creature of habits. His ego is one thing, but there's a lot more to that house than it just being his dwelling of choice. It's his family home, he'll return to it one way or another, if for no other reason than to feel that it's his, rightfully. There's a lot more to that place than meets the eye, as well. I can't even count the amount of exits and entrances that are usable on the grounds, and the wing that he has his own little private jail in? You can't see it from the street, no hint that it's there at all." Dareus nods quietly before he adds, "I don't doubt that. Hell, if they didn't have what they needed anyway; I'd be being beaten right now...obviously things are panning out with what we brought back home." He half snorts for a second, "Home...be it ever so humble..." Tapping the fingers from his left hand against his sternum, "I think I need a drink. Doubt I'll get any whiskey though....shoulda expected my credit would be shot to hell." A half smile crosses his face, only for the briefest of moments. "Home is that place where, if you have to go, they have to take you in?" Lynae suggests before she nods, "Whiskey for you. I want something to eat. I'd give a great deal for a ration bar right now," she mumbles. "I even like rations, so it's not a punishment. So we could talk about food and drink," she offers. "Or you could try to get some sleep." Dareus shakes his head, "There's bread over there, I can barely sleep at all, let alone think about eating. Makes me sick to my stomach,at this point in time...." Opening his eyes, he looks up at the ceiling again, staring at one of the lights for no particular reason, "Real food, I could go for...something nice on Corellia....a few steaks from that little shithole on Nar Shaddaa... you ever seen that place that looks like a dump, but people line up for food?" He looks over at her briefly, "You should be the one getting sleep; I get my pain tomorrow...." "Ahhh, no," Lynae says after shaking her head slowly from side to side, "I haven't been to Corellia really other than from time to time. But you're right about the sleep," she scoots off of the bed and lowers herself to the floor across from Dareus, "As long as there's no loud noises jarring us awake every three hours, I'm going to sleep over here. Wake me if they decided to give us room service cards and hot showers." Dareus nods, "You should use the bed, I'm on the floor for a reason; but then again, I forgot how stubborn you are." His eyes never leave the ceiling, "I'll let you know if anything needs your attention; but I'm pretty sure that we won't be having and room service soon." "The hospitality wing really needs those little comment cards," Lynae mumbles as she eases herself down to lay on her side against the wall. "You know the ones where we get to leave comments on how we enjoyed our stay," she explains. Brig - Day 4